


Monster and Machine

by secretagentfan



Category: Toward the Terra
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:49:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21568678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretagentfan/pseuds/secretagentfan
Summary: Jonah Matsuka tried to murder Keith one month ago. Today, he brings him coffee.Alternately titled: In space no one can hear you need therapy.
Relationships: Keith Anyan/Jonah Matsuka
Kudos: 8





	Monster and Machine

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Shibui Zine: A zine focusing on manga/anime that were created pre-90s.  
> This fic is a little bit older because I forgot to post it, but hey for the person out there that has read/watched/kept up with Toward the Terra in 2019 and wants some Jonah Keith analysis- THIS IS FOR YOU.  
> No really I love Toward the Terra so much. It's filled with complex messed up relationships, and everyone's doing their best.

This morning as Matsuka brought commander Keith Anyan his first cup of coffee, he found him hunched over his command desk. His eyes were shut, and his forehead was resting against his fingers rigidly locked in a white-knuckle fold. It looked, Matsuka decided, like he was praying a very stressful prayer.

_Machine,_ was the most common descriptor attached to commander Anyan. Some meant it as a compliment: praise for his hyper-rational decision-making and cool confidence; most, however, didn’t mean it as a compliment at all.

Today, like this, he didn’t look like a machine to Matsuka. He looked human. Tired, even.

The moment Matsuka’s boots passed through the sliding glass door and into the captain’s quarters- Keith unfolded. He picked up a pen and confidently tapped two points on the projection screen in front of him, which immediately flashed with a false explosion and then peaceful green. Keith exhaled through his nose and leaned back in his chair, his lips turned upward in an almost-smile.

Of course, Matsuka realized. Keith was planning; not praying. He was completing a battle simulation, and Matsuka had nearly interrupted like an idiot.

“Don’t stand in my doorway,” Keith ordered.

Matsuka’s arms snapped to his sides. Silently, he cleared the space between them keeping his eyes on the placement of his feet. Just last month, when he tried to murder Keith, he had learned the hard way never to stand behind him. Now he stood at his right, and placed Keith’s coffee next to him.

Keith picked up the coffee. He didn’t sniff it, didn’t hesitate. He brought it to his lips without a second thought and drank.

Matsuka had many, many fears. Keith Anyan happened to find himself very near the top of that list.

The very concept of Keith being scared of anything was laughable. Matsuka was, in his words, “a level one threat”. Matsuka was beginning to believe it— he hadn’t poisoned Keith’s coffee. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.

They could not be more different, and rumors had already started to spread as to why the formidable Keith had decided to keep a human as weak as Matsuka around as his second.

“Monster,” Keith greeted, setting his cup down with a ‘clink’.

The real explanation was simple: Jonah Matsuka was not a human. He was a Mu, a telepathic powerhouse capable of destroying the minds of half the ship’s crew. He was, according to certain documents on the desk of a certain individual: a monster who was only loyal to his _own kind_.

Matsuka didn’t know that, however. He didn’t know what he was, or what his powers were. All he knew is that he had lived pathetic, alone, and in a constant state of fear every single horrible day after discovering his abilities— abilities without explanation that would certainly lead to his death. Or should have led to his death.

Keith Anyan didn’t kill him. He shot him twice with a stun gun, but then promoted him. Kept him close, assuring him he would be useful.

And, oh, part of it was a _relief_. A desperate, embarrassing relief Matsuka didn’t even know he needed. To be known, to be needed, for any reason at all was more than he had ever considered to be possible. Matsuka knew he was little more than a weapon in Keith’s eyes: a monster to kill monsters, but after being nothing for so long in anyone else’s, this existence— this familiar terror— was home. Was _his_.

“Sir,” Matsuka replied, bowing his head.

Keith looked at him. His eyes weren’t empty like usual, or devoid of emotion. They were uncharacteristically curious, as if he were evaluating an unusual bug.

His thoughts were a steel wall like always, reassuring in their vicious silence. Matsuka did not know how he concealed his thoughts, only that he did. The process of thought was definitely there: an unreadable hum that proved, in spite of the rumors, Keith fully human, not machine.

After a few more awkward moments of being analyzed, Matsuka turned to leave.

“What do you use to make this?” Keith asked.

The question cut through the silence of the room and left Matsuka’s throat tight. Keith was holding his cup of coffee, staring into it. Matsuka slowly turned around to face him.

“A press, sir.” Matsuka replied carefully— as if Keith might suddenly throw the cup at him. He never had, but it was possible.

“Hm,” Keith nodded, still not looking up. “Like at the station. How recent is the model?”

Matsuka didn’t know how to reply. Normally they interacted in harsh one-word commands and flustered apologies, but today Keith was _conversing_.

“I’m not sure, sir. It seems recent. I can check.”

Keith’s eyes found his. Matsuka wondered when the last time someone really _looked_ at him was. Last week, when he ran into a younger cadet and apologized? Or far earlier than that, when he was a child?

“No need. I can infer.”

“Yes sir.”

Keith was holding his ear, touching what appeared to be a blood-red earring as he turned his back to Matsuka. He looked out the large window in front of him at all the stars and planets they were passing. Matsuka looked as well, wondering if there was something he failed to notice: anything to explain the commander’s strange behavior—

_How long has it been since I’ve talked to someone?_

The accidental thought was a whisper in Matsuka’s head, and tinged with enough isolation Matsuka’s heart squeezed in a bizarre cocktail of shock and empathy. Automatically, Matsuka’s hand went to his hair, as if he could hold onto this thought and better examine it.

Matsuka froze. It was an amateur mistake, and he caught himself too late. He lowered his hand to his side in a way he hoped looked like he had simply been brushing his hair back, although he was certain Keith would see through his ruse.

Keith did not move. His back remained to Matsuka, and for the briefest of seconds, Matsuka wondered if he sent the thought intentionally.

The thought was laughable, but Matsuka couldn’t shake it. He took a step forward, heart pounding in his chest.

“Sir?”

“Did I say you could speak to me?”

Matsuka balked.

“No sir.”

“Good. You know your place then. Speak, Mu.”

The commander’s back was tense, rigid. Familiar.

A million questions popped into Matsuka’s head. He opened his mouth, just as Keith turned to face him. His white uniform contrasted sharply with the stars behind him, and it was terror that filled Matsuka’s body now—not sympathy. 

“When would you like your next cup?”

Keith’s eyes narrowed at the innocuous question. His mind was empty again; All vulnerable thought had vanished.

“Do not waste my time. I will send for you when I need it. Leave now.”

Matsuka did.

He shut the door behind him and leaned against the wall of the ship’s interior. He stared through the window but didn’t really see anything out there for him.

After a moment, he laughed—a whispered, broken thing. Humorless.

It seemed he and the commander had something in common.


End file.
